Out of the Strong
by Tale-of-winter
Summary: Isabel is getting better. Sequel to "Out of the Eater"
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is a sequel to "Out of the Eater." You probably won't be too lost if you just read this, but it would help to go back and read the first story.

With time, she healed.

When the seasons changed, she and Dr. Hopper took to walking through town during their sessions. He called it immersion therapy. They would walk across town with Pongo, chatting about mundane things, all the while with Dr. Hopper reminding her of her breathing exercises. She liked walking with him well enough. He was a kind man, though easily flustered. Isabel frequently found herself advising him on personal matters, though anyone who knew better would have probably avoided her advice as she'd warned him. Her track record with relationships was poor, though if you ascribed to the notion that you could learn more from failure than from success, she was just the woman to ask.

When strolling outside became easy enough, Isabel took up jogging. It was something she had enjoyed before. Though she was winded after only half a mile, simply getting out and going had been exhilarating. Jogging focused her mind on only what was right ahead of her. By the time it was warm enough to go out without a jacket, Isabel was recuperated well enough to enjoy Storybrooke's spring festival.

It seemed that Storybrooke couldn't turn down any excuse to have a street festival. They celebrated the return of spring with food booths and an outdoor concert. Everyone crowded onto the main street to meander up and down eating fried foods and enjoying the hour's entertainment. Both Emma and Mary Margaret had started to fret over it weeks ahead of time.

Emma was busy with crowd control for the event. She'd deputized several members of the elementary school PTA to help her keep track of the crowd. It wasn't as though there would be a riot, but Emma wanted to be safe rather than sorry.

Mary Margaret's class was scheduled to sing on the main stage twice. She left for the elementary school early on the morning of the festival to make sure that the last few details were in place.

And so, Isabel went to the spring festival alone.

There were plenty of people out and about when she arrived. She wandered down the street, stopping to talk to a few of those who she knew, but otherwise simply soaking in the atmosphere. Where once she'd been a curious sight, now the rest of the town accepted her. Isabel had proved to be normal and the gossip mongers of Storybrooke had quickly forgotten her and moved on to more fruitful sources.

In among the booths selling lemonade and funnel cakes, was an old flower lady. She sat on stool surrounded by buckets full of tulips, carnations, lilies, and crocuses in a myriad of colors. Isabel had the woman wrap up a bouquet of yellow crocuses and white lilies to give to Mary Margaret after her first performance of the day. She leaned over to examine some of the roses while the woman arranged the bouquet for her. They were sweet yet delicate. English roses grown somewhere far, far away from Storybrooke.

"Do you prefer white or red?" asked a man's voice from behind her.

Isabel looked back to find Mr. Gold. She had not seen him since she'd abandoned him.

"Red," she said.

As the flower lady passed Isabel the bouquet and her change, Mr. Gold asked her for a single red rose. Isabel stood there, unsure of what to do, while the woman trimmed the rose's stem and wrapped it up in wax paper with baby's breath. She presented it to Mr. Gold who in turn offered it to Isabel.

"Thank you," she said, raising the rose to enjoy its scent. Isabel seemed to recall, if only extremely vaguely, that she'd smelled a rose just like this before, but somewhere else.

"Are you enjoying the festival?" he asked.

Mr. Gold was quite restrained, even for himself. He reminded her of an Austen hero.

"It's very nice. I haven't been to one of these in a long time. I didn't expect to see you here."

And she hadn't. He'd never been the type to attend Storybrooke's many public festivals, from what she remembered of him. He didn't profit off of them and they generally shut down streets and otherwise interfered with regular life. Isabel could recall a few times that he'd sponsored events or groups, but never of him having put in an appearance at any such events. She hadn't prepared to face him. It was the only scenario it seemed that she hadn't worked through with Dr. Hopper. Isabel had yet to even tell the doctor of her past with Mr. Gold.

"I didn't expect to come," Mr. Gold replied.

"Well, I hope you enjoy it."

He nodded to her then waded back into the crowd.

Isabel reminded herself to lay off on the Austen for a while.


	2. Chapter 2

"And how does that make you feel?" Dr. Hopper asked her.

They had reconvened in his office for another therapy session. She missed Pongo's presence, but now was the time to focus. Before they'd settled down for the session, she'd stopped to make them tea. Spring had been warming Storybrooke, bringing out the flowers, to be suddenly silenced by a cold snap topped off with a late season snow storm.

"Anxious. I'm not sure that I'm ready," Belle said.

"What makes you think that you're not ready? You've confronted so many other things that frightened you."

"But it's different with him. He's different. It isn't that I just haven't been exposed to him. It is what happened before."

"And what happened before, Isabel?"

She offered to refill the doctor's tea cup and he assented. The tea set was very modern and plain. It was stoneware. Isabel had found it in the cabinet of the little kitchen in the building where the doctor had his office. It had been a gift from a patient long ago, but he'd never used it, he said. When she offered to fix tea for both of them, he'd agreed. On cold days Isabel would offer to make them tea before her therapy session started. It calmed her nerves and it made the sessions feel more like a conversation between friends.

"Every time I try to remember it, it's a little muddled... I was his housekeeper. Sometimes I would help him with his shop, but most of my duties were keeping that mansion in order. In exchange, he paid me a little money and forgave some of my father's debt. It wasn't hard work. He was kind to me and I liked spending time with him. I moved into one of his spare bedrooms after a while and started spending more time with him. Eventually, I realized I was in love with him. He didn't feel the same way."

"And how did that make you feel?"

"I felt rejected... but now I'm not sure."

"Not sure of what?"

She thought of his arms around her, pulling her close. Isabel thought of how relieved he'd been to see her.

"I'm not sure he meant to reject me."

"What makes you say that?"

"On my first walk around town, I went into his shop and I saw him. He grabbed me and he put his arms around me and he was _apologizing_."

"But you aren't sure?"

Isabel shook her head.

"This is why it is important for you to talk to him. You can't move on if you have this looming over you."

"I know, but I panic each time I see him."

"Would it help if I arranged a meeting where the two of you could sit down together?"

Would it help?

So far their meetings had been unplanned. She'd always thought that if she'd had time to prepare, she would be too frightened to go through with it. But living in the moment hadn't turned out well so far.

"Can I think about it?" Isabel asked.

Archie nodded.

Isabel left the doctor's office, her head still circling around the prospect of a meeting Mr. Gold. She walked to the library to look through apartment listings on the internet.

It was not that she felt unwelcome. Her roommates were nothing but considerate. It seemed more and more that she was taking up space that Mary Margaret and Emma needed. They needed that space and she needed her own private space. Unfortunately the town of Storybrooke didn't exactly have the widest housing market. People moved so infrequently that the same set of apartments she couldn't afford that she'd looked up last week were still there. She checked the community announcement board up by the front door, but it was covered with fliers for the high school's production of "Into the Woods" and old notices for the spring festival. The iDaily Mirror/i wasn't any more help.

On a whim, she flipped to the want ads. She would need some sort of job before she could even think about moving off of Mary Margaret's couch. A few of the shops were looking for clerks and the diner needed another waitress. Isabel wrote down the details in the little notebook she kept in her purse, and then returned the newspaper to the rack. She checked out a novel and went back to the apartment.

"A job?" Emma asked. "Are you ready for that?"

She leaned against the counter, wolfing down the dinner Isabel had cooked before she ran out of the house again to attend to her duties as sheriff.

"I'm ready," Isabel said.

"Do you know where you're going to apply?" asked Mary Margaret.

"The bookshop is looking for a clerk part-time in the mornings. I figured that I could start there."

"That sounds like the perfect match."

Emma said nothing, though she eyed Mary Margaret with some suspicion. It was the typical pattern they'd fallen into. Mary Margaret quietly encouraged her, while Emma was suspicious of any change. Both seemed have the natural inclination to try to protect her from getting hurt again, but took different approaches.

Isabel told neither of them about Dr. Hopper's proposition.

She went down to the bookshop the next morning to talk to the owner. He was an old man, one of the oldest in town, but he still remembered her from before. Isabel had been a frequent visitor to the bookshop. There had never been much money for buying new books, but she'd still liked to visit and look through the shelves, appreciating the feel of a hefty hardback in her hands or the smell of fresh ink.

The old man hired Isabel on the spot. He sent her away with a promise to come back the next morning and the hardback of her choice.

Isabel tucked the book into her bag and wandered down the street, too happy to go home yet, but too excited and nervous to sit still long enough to sit in one of the cafes and enjoy a celebratory coffee. The cold snap had yet to lift, but she didn't feel it. With her hands tucked in her pockets, as she'd forgotten to find her gloves before going out, Isabel wandered the streets.

She came to Dr. Hopper's practice and stopped to go inside. The doctor was busy, but she left a note for him with his receptionist. In it, she told him to go ahead with what he had proposed. That she was ready for it. Isabel folded the note in half and passed it to the receptionist. She went back in the street, still on a high.


End file.
